verb (used with object), controlled, controlling.1. to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command2. to hold in check; curb3. to test or verify (a scientific experiment) by a parallel experiment or other standard of comparison.4. to eliminate or prevent the flourishing or spread of
For a while now, I have been tensed, frustrated, morose, depressed, confused, dazed, blank, blah blah blah blah... You name a negative emotion and there's a high chance that I have been its victim in the past few months. All elements of self-control have eluded me, sometimes collectively. It's one thing to move ahead in life, a whole another to bring about a paradigm shift. And when that shift doesn't happen as per my plan, I tend to lose control of my own self. And I have been losing control steadily, of my mind, health, work and life as a whole. I studied to enter the elite universities and somehow landed in one (God be praised!) to become a B.E.(hons) Mechanical in four wonderful years.Control was about to seem appropriate but freedom took over the very next instant. I enjoyed all the liberty that a student can enjoy in this mighty nation and then some more. Developed deep and meaningful relations with friends, teachers and strangers. Studies took a backseat and learning dominated most of the course. I learnt about many things, mostly different from academics. And just when the control seemed lost, in my pre-final semester, life took an upturn in the form of a placement after four healthy rejections.Final semester Practice School in another corner of this country and subsequent illness weakened the newly found control and I succumbed to a plethora of negativity once more. Again, my mind found a raft and waded me slowly, albeit steadily, through the course of six months. Starting my work in a city notorious for the wrong reasons, I alone held on my course while my new-found friends drifted to various creeks. Learning took a backseat and earning held on its ground.Moving to yet another city known for its relaxed pace and sense of calm, I discovered a loyal friend called loneliness. It sharpened my sense of liveliness and taught me to speak with myself, get angry, console and caress my mind. Work remained an obligation for the most part. An obligation to repay my financial debt and an obligation to remain in a lifestyle which suited me immensely. Control seemed complete when competition beckoned me back towards academics.I studied smartly every now and then. Appeared for GRE and managed a decent score. Control was still going strong. Then a demon called PAST raised its head and brought me crashing down to the hard ground. Somehow, my hitherto questionable academic record brought forth a pregnant pause to my academic aspirations of studying in the elite universities of this world. Control lost its ground to reality and PAST defeated the PRESENT. Now in one of the most active cities of this world, my sense of control is diminishing at an exponential rate. Everything I have achieved (or not) is a result of what I have tried (or not) till now. Every equation is balanced, maybe imperfectly and unpredictably. Now I understand the humor underlying the timeline. The more I have tried to control, the harder I have fallen. The more I have been comfortable, the faster I have been uprooted by the ravages of time. The more I have been melancholy, even quicker have I lost my discipline. Perhaps, control is not the destination, it's just a recurring milestone.There are those who always stick with me, guide me, motivate me, prod me further, shout at me, disturb their lives but refuse tenaciously to let me indulge in my detrimental thoughts and bouts of paranoia. To them, I am eternally grateful! Their presence has saved me from myself countless times.I have but few answers for the mound of questions that plague my mind constantly. Questions like, will I ever be good enough to take risks? What kind of a value addition would I be able do to myself & my people with such dramatic outbursts and panic? What exactly is my definition of a "job" to earn a living? What exactly do I mean to myself when I try to become a freelancer? Would I ever be good enough to be a full-time blogger/writer? If yes, would you have the patience to bear with me when I am churning out random philosophies and pseudo-intellectual articles? If no, what exactly would I be good at to monetize my skill? As they say, would I ever be able to love my job and feel happier to put in extra hours? If yes, what would that job be specifically?Questions, questions everywhere... Control is down and injured. Half-time please, life! PS - All answers are welcome. Profanity and eccentricity aren't unknown to me.